NaPoWriMo Day 18, Poem 4

I'm catching up, yes. I'm continuing because even if I only write one more poem after this, it's one more than what I usually do on a good month. Nothing bad, as I see it, can come out of this challenge. Except bad poetry, I guess. Even so, it's good to squeeze the lemons out of you from time to time.

(Like that last sentence)

For now, I'm keeping these up just because someone other than myself might enjoy the creative rough draft process. I've always noticed that artist sketchbooks are always worth a look but not too many people push for rough drafts of poems. Maybe this blog will illustrate that reason, who knows?

Anyway, from my underused "poem a day" booklet, where I select a random word, and just go with it.

Us

If we're embraced
in the hurricane's poked eye,
why do we still rise and spin?

Darling--and I call you that
with no mocking meter,
no poetic mask for conceit--
I don't know why, even as our soaring
causes unowned satelites
to call us peers,
I scream that we're falling.